


Refuge

by Raptor_Squad



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Just a little bit of Angst, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-09-18 03:52:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16987539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raptor_Squad/pseuds/Raptor_Squad
Summary: Summertime is bright, warm mornings and long, lingering sunsets; it’s nostalgia steeped in the smell of wildflowers and fire. Hiccup is sitting on the roof, as he does every morning, watching the sky lighten and the clouds move like waves just below the surface. Summer dawns are by far his favorite; they feel like Toothless at his back during hunting trips and adventures; like every touch Astrid has ever given him; like bonfire’s on sea stacks and happiness between friends.An excuse for M to get some squishy feelings off of her chest in the form of saccharine, reflective schmoop for your literary pleasure.





	1. Summertime pt. 1

Hiccup has always enjoyed the breaking of dawn over Berk. The ambient light makes everything look washed out and fragile; the sentries guarding their harbor glow bright and strong. He is almost always one of the first ones up in the mornings now, and his eyes trace the horizon surrounding his home between breaths.

Summertime is bright, warm mornings and long, lingering sunsets; it’s nostalgia steeped in the smell of wildflowers and fire. Hiccup is sitting on the roof, as he does every morning, watching the sky lighten and the clouds move like waves just below the surface. Summer dawns are by far his favorite; they feel like Toothless at his back during hunting trips and adventures; like every touch Astrid has ever given him; like bonfire’s on sea stacks and happiness between friends.

Summer feels like clouds in his chest and warmth that stays long after the sun has set and the earth has cooled.

Hiccup can see flickering lights dotting the sea, the beacons of fisherman returning home with the day’s catch, so he climbs down the side of his house and starts leisurely walking to the docks. He spends the walk through the village collecting his thoughts, making lists and nodding at the few sleepy faces he sees peeking outside. By the time he makes it to the cliff above the docks, the sky is a pale clay-orange with wide, meandering rivers of grey-lavender fluff and the large clouds Hiccup saw to the south have come to escort his tribesmen home and kiss the cliffs.

Hiccup is watching the small specks become boats when he hears the almost-but-not-quite-inaudible flapping of wings a moment before he feels the wind ruffle his hair. He looks up and Astrid is sitting on Toothless while Stormfly hovers nearby. He can’t help the dumbstruck smile that breaks across his face when he sees his wife, the soft affection in her eyes and the gentle slope of her shoulders carry the lingering warmth and comfort of their bed and he has never seen anyone more radiant. She grins back at him, wide and lovely, and then guides Toothless to land so that she can lean out of the saddle and give him a brief kiss.

“Good morning, love” Hiccup murmurs when she pulls away, one hand already scratching Toothless’ chin. It never ceases to amaze Hiccup how _lucky_ he is to have clumsily charmed Toothless _and_ Astrid into sticking around.

“Morning, Chief,” Astrid replies.

“Patrolling or pleasure?” Hiccup brushes his fingers over the fur-lined hood of her cloak, and then under the silky curtain of her hair to tug gently at the small braid that tucks behind her ear and curves around her jaw, index finger lingering on the dark red leather coiled at the end.

 

_It was a small, innocuous gift, conjured during a brief moment of reprieve between working in the forge and his meeting with the council. Hiccup found himself staring at the scraps of leather on his workbench and daydreaming about his intended as he absentmindedly put tools away. In the weeks after Drago Bludvist disappeared, he had felt like a building after a fire, like the red hot flames of his grief had been reduced to smoldering embers that lingered and ate at his strength, and he felt as if at any moment he would crumble in on himself, hollowed out and reduced to a pile of ash. But staring at the long strips of leather and thinking about the strength and comfort Astrid lent him during his silent mourning, Hiccup felt like maybe he could start rebuilding sooner than he thought. He had burnt his name into one side of the strip, small letters that were invisible unless one ran their fingers over the length of the chord. On the other side he burned a simple and delicate pattern of knots, a silent vow hidden in an everyday object. He had felt silly burning it and even sillier giving it to Astrid while he stumbled over an apology for their wedding being pushed back, but she simply smiled at him, exasperated fondness etched into every inch of her expression, and then pressed a quick kiss to his lips in thanks._

_She had woven it into the crown of bright flowers resting on her head for their wedding, and then wrapped it around the end of a small braid near her bangs the next morning. Hiccup had tucked it behind her ear, as he often did with her hair, and kissed her soundly._

 

She’s worn it everyday since then.

“Patrol and then pleasure, I deserve a morning off,” Astrid says, impish joy edging at her smile and the corners of her eyes.

Hiccup nods in response and then moves to kiss her again, just because he can.

“Have fun. You have Spitfire?” Hiccup asks. Astrid nods and then looks up and over the horizon, eyes that are usually the shade of glaciers in the sun looking more like the ocean in the light of a lavender dawn.

 

_Spitfire was a more recent gift, the sibling to his own sword, Inferno. While Hiccup had been perfectly content with his bladeless weapon, his wife most certainly would not be happy with the same. So Hiccup sketched and scratched out dozens of potential designs in secret before he settled on one he thought suited Astrid. He made the Gronckle iron handle hollow for the Hideous Zippleback gas, and then designed a small replica of Stormfly’s head, mouth open in a fierce shriek, for the cap piece, right between two very large, very sharp axe blades. He designed a trigger that sat on a small rotating gear near the lower third of the handle. All Astrid would have to do is point it at Stormfly’s head and then press the button. It would release the gas, and with a quick thumb rotation clockwise it would spark the flint. The internal mechanism for the trigger took him nearly a month to perfect, but he was proud of the clever little pulley that would release a tiny hammer to spark the flint. Because Astrid was approximately 95% of his self-control (at least in regards to inventions) and Hiccup couldn’t resist showing off a little, he designed a collapsing handle extension that would click and lock into place at the end of her axe. He’d also added a large retractable Nadder-shaped spike to the bottom of the handle extension that would only pop out if Astrid rotated a specific section of the extension. It helped balance the weight and for his warrior wife, two weapons in one would be a small dream come true. He’d sharpened and shined the Gronckle iron until he could see his reflection in the blades. Hiccup carved runes of protection and strength into the wide band at the base of Stormfly’s head, he’d wrapped thick leather dyed the dark red of House Haddock along both handles and then carefully wrapped thinner strips of bright blue leather around the blades and spike for House Hofferson. Satisfied with the overall design, Hiccup had wrapped them separately and hid them in a cupboard in the kitchen. The next morning, while the sky was still dark, Hiccup had slipped downstairs as silently as he could to grab the presents, ignoring the teasing huff of Toothless by the hearth. When he peeked inside the bedroom he saw Astrid still deeply asleep with her face buried in his pillow and the thin sheet pulled down to her lower back. Hiccup’s hand twitched and he caught himself trying to come up with a good reason to wake her up other than, ‘you’re devastatingly beautiful’, but he shook it off and set the gifts atop her cloak. He grabbed his riding gear from the stool in the corner, pressed a soft kiss to Astrid’s golden bird’s nest, and left for a long morning flight with his best friend. She’d found him in the forge cleaning up by mid-afternoon, and then promptly distracted him for a good hour. In the time it took them to get their breathing under control, Hiccup showed her what she hadn’t already figured out, which was the Nadder-spike. Astrid’s eyes had lit up with giddy surprise, but when she looked back up at him all Hiccup saw was pride._

 

“Be safe,” Hiccup looks back at her briefly before waving to Sven and Bucket on the nearest ship.

“You too.” Astrid nudges Toothless once and then they’re soaring higher and higher until all Hiccup can see is a couple of specks disappearing through the clouds.

Hiccup focuses on the incoming fisherman. To them summer is sailing farther for exotic fish to trade and preparing the food stores for winter. He checks in with them fairly often, but otherwise lets Snotlout handle the comings and goings of Berk’s docks.

Although it’s been summer for weeks, Hiccup doesn’t begin to truly appreciate it until he is walking through the village in the midday sun. He’s heading home to go through some papers and blueprints before the council meeting later in the afternoon, but he slows his pace to listen to the unmistakable cacophony of life on Berk. Children are running around playing, heedless of their mother’s worry; men are drinking, heedless of their wives scorn; and dragons are lounging, happily baking in the sunlight while their tails flicker lazily over rooftops and across grass. People stop him periodically with questions or concerns and Hiccup bittersweetly remembers his father’s giddy excitement when he said _“no task is too small when it comes to serving your people.”_

Summer is when he lost the most important man in his life, and it feels like such a contradiction to feel the warmth of the sun and the cool ache of grief at the same time.

Hiccup waves to Fishlegs as he flies over him towards the academy. He can see his house already, just ahead and up the hill, and Hiccup’s stomach chooses that moment to growl at him angrily. He has enough time to throw something together if he hurries, but he’ll be fine if he skips lunch.

He steps through the front door and leaves it open so he can feel the breeze. He’s thinking of what they might have hanging around the kitchen when he spots it. A covered plate sitting on the table by the stairs with a note bearing his name in a familiar scrawl. Warmth blooms like wildflowers in Hiccup’s chest when he unfolds the note and sees, ‘ _You’re too skinny, babe’_ inside. When he uncovers the plate, there’s some dried fruit, bread, and a chicken leg waiting for him.

Hiccup always loves Astrid, even when they’re arguing and the only way to bridge the angry gap is to walk away from each other for a while. He loves her when she’s frustrated with him, when there’s fire in her eyes and conviction in her unwavering voice. He loves Astrid when she’s gentle, when she presses butterfly kisses into his old scars and fusses over his new ones. He loves Astrid when she’s quiet and contemplative because he loves kissing away the wrinkle in her brow until she rolls her eyes and pushes him away, a begrudging smile on her face. He loves her when she hovers near his shoulder in the kitchen and swears to Valhalla that one day she’ll make him the best meal he’s ever tasted. He loves her when she’s playful, when she does horrible impressions of him while they’re laying in bed and he has no choice but to laugh and kiss her breathless.

Hiccup _always_ loves Astrid, but looking at the simple gesture in his hands, Hiccup feels like a dumb kid falling in love for the first time all over again. He feels like he’ll burst into a swarm of butterflies at any second and he hopes that he will _never_ stop feeling this way. A breeze flows through the house and brings with it the smell of the ocean and sheep, but there’s a sweet note of _something else_ in the air that instantly transports him back to the last time he smelled that sweetness; Astrid’s hair, the day he proposed, right before they were officially _betrothed._ Nostalgia tilts Hiccup’s lips upward as he tosses some fruit into his mouth and steps into the small room under the stairs, his eyes scanning for his blueprints while his heart meanders down the river of memory.


	2. A Memory of Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some intimacies are too infinite to bear.  
> Some infinities are too intimate to name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello!  
> We're back at it again with part two of what I have now decided will be a three chapter exploration of Hiccup and his relationships with time, love, and grief.  
> I hope you enjoy this little blurb and stick around for chapter three!
> 
> *for anyone who might be confused, this chapter takes place several years before chapter one. It is a memory.
> 
> *unbeta'd

As the chief’s heir, as a young man with more titles than he ever wanted, Hiccup could, by viking tradition, choose any maiden of the tribe for a bride. Almost no matriarch or patriarch would turn down the opportunity to marry a daughter off to the future Chief of Berk, and that was exactly the problem. He didn’t want to be wanted because he was the ‘Dragon Master’ or ‘The Pride of Berk’, titles he carried as pleasant consequences of his _Hiccup-ness._ As Chief, his father could propose and/or accept a proposal for an alliance with another Chieftain and seal the deal with a wedding. And that was also a problem, because he couldn’t fathom marrying a complete stranger, but Hiccup knew his place and he would have to accept the marriage with the dignity expected of a future chief. 

He and his father hadn’t discussed it much, maybe in passing during the last winter, a stray thought about ‘coming of age’ and ‘viking traditions’ that had slipped through his father’s lips as they sat in front of the fire after a long day of keeping Berk a well-oiled machine, even if most of the island was frozen or buried beneath snow. It had become an almost-tradition: after dinner but before his patrols Hiccup would linger near the hearth with his father, sometimes discussing the village but often sitting in quiet solidarity. 

Hiccup hadn’t responded that night, too caught off guard, but it had planted a seed in his mind that grew day by day until it, like the wildflowers that bloomed behind his house, broke through the frost. 

There were traditions, a lot of them, but they always felt too business-like and cold to Hiccup, as if the people involved were commodities like iron and fur, instead of _people_. First, there were negotiations held between two families, often with Stoick, Spitelout, or Gobber acting as mediators and witnesses. They would discuss the _mundr_ that was to be given _before_ the wedding, the _morgengifu_ for the _morning after_ the wedding, and the _heiman fylgia_ , tossed _somewhere_ in there. The negotiations would be sealed with a _handsal_ , that Hiccup, as the bridegroom, would have to perform, and then wham-bam - he would be betrothed. 

It was a couple of months after his father’s musings that Hiccup brought it up. Winter left calmer than it came and they had been walking through the new dragon pens in the old whispering death tunnels under the village, checking on construction and making improvements where needed. 

“Dad, can we talk?” Hiccup asked. 

“Aye, what is it, lad?” 

“Have you received any proposals from the other Chieftains?” Hiccup asked, straight to the point. He had gotten better over the years at meeting people’s eyes when he spoke and not slouching in meetings or in front of crowds; the gnawing fears and howling anxieties that loomed over his head had slowly faded into nearly-silent murmurs.

Stoick paused near the the stairs that led up to the Deadly Nadder pens, turned, and placed gentle hands on Hiccup’s shoulders. 

“I have,” Stoick replied calmly. 

“When?” 

“The first arrived with Trader Johann.” That had been two weeks ago.

“Who?” 

“The Meatheads, the Bog Burglars, the Berserkers, and the Lava Louts.” 

“Have you replied?” Hiccup’s voice had been steady up until this point, but this simple, short question possibly held his future, and that weight felt like it collapsed and shook inside of his ribs until his teeth rattled. And though Hiccup hid it well, his father could see the faint flicker in his son’s eyes. 

Stoick recognized that flicker, had seen that fleeting hesitation to feel resentful of duty in his own face the day his father approached him about the very same subject. Stoick and Valka hadn’t had a choice, but their friendship had sparked into a bright, fierce loyalty during their short betrothal. Love came later. 

Stoick had spent much of Hiccup’s life putting the tribe first. _Their_ safety, _their_ happiness, and _their_ best interests had sat at the forefront of Stoick’s concerns, as was his duty, but he had duties to his son as well. Stoick wasn’t stupid: he knew when his son was in love. Maybe it was time to take a page from Hiccup’s book and just _throw out_ the book; maybe peace for Berk didn’t have to cost Hiccup his heart, too. 

“I told them all that I would need time to discuss it with the council, and with my son,” Stoick replied softly, hands dropping from Hiccup’s tensed shoulders. He watched them droop minutely in apparent relief.

“And?” Hiccup asked. Stoick glanced around the massive cavern that would become their dragon stables before his eyes rested once more on his son. 

“We are not currently at war. The Meatheads are our closest neighbors and our oldest friends. The Bog Burglars have never had quarrel with us, and the Berserkers would prefer to have us fight alongside them. The Lava Louts,” and here Stoick paused to take a breath. “The Lava Louts have been enemies of Berk for generations, but knowledge of the Dragon Master has cooled the feud. They’re all sensible proposals.” Hiccup braced himself for the axe to fall, for his father to tell him which tribe he’d be visiting in the near future. 

“They’re all sensible proposals,” Stoick repeated, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t say _no.”_

“Dad?” Hiccup asked, voice small, feeling like a kid again, asking if trolls really were stealing all of the left socks on the island. 

“You’ve grown into a wise young man, Hiccup, and you have more than earned the right to choose this,” Stoick’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled at the dumbstruck look on his son’s face. 

“You mean-” 

“Aye, son. I’ll be expecting an answer by the end of the Thawfest Games,” and then his father gestured for them to continue their inspection. Hiccup nodded as cautious, optimistic excitement bubbled in his chest. 

He needed to speak to Astrid. If his future hadn’t been decided for him already then that meant he had a _choice_. 

The thing was- and it really was a _thing_ wasn’t it? The way his stomach rioted and his heart rattled against his ribcage, demanding attention and realigning his core to it’s lovesick satisfaction. 

He had made his choice years ago. 

He had little more than a week until Thawfest, and the entire village would be busy with the preparations, himself and Astrid included, but Hiccup was determined to figure it out. After they finished their loop Stoick waved Hiccup off before walking up the tunnel that opened up inside the Great Hall. 

Hiccup headed towards the forge, eager to shine, sharpen, and repair until his mind quieted enough for him to think clearly. When he walked in Toothless was happily napping by the fire, but he was otherwise alone. He grabbed his apron and checked the backlog; a few axes needed handle repairs, some swords needed to be un-bent or re-welded, and there was an order for a few saddlebags, but there wasn’t much to do. He patted Toothless’ head a few times and got a warbling yawn in return. Hiccup grinned, grabbed his tools, and got to work.

Hiccup thought he was in love with Astrid when he was stuck watching her through the forge windows, but that hadn’t been love of _her,_ it was infatuation with everything she represented. 

Over the years Astrid had become Hiccup’s best (human) friend. But beyond that she was his confidant, his advisor, and his partner in crime. She made him laugh. She reminded Hiccup not to take himself too seriously. She grounded him and she encouraged him to reach for the stars. She was one of the first people who believed in him, and she had never stopped, not even when his faith in himself faltered.

Hiccup loved Astrid silently and without expectation because he knew that a political marriage was a very real possibility for his future, and it would only hurt if he let himself _want._ And he _knew_ that she returned at least some of his feelings, even if they had never spoken of it, too weary of reality and too reluctant to break each other’s heart. 

The day before the Thawfest celebrations were to begin was hectic for dragons and vikings alike. Hiccup had been pulled all over the Archipelago the past week on errands, so he was more than excited to sleep in. At least, he slept in, until an overgrown lizard decided to use him as a pillow and then _pout_ at him. 

“Sweet Thor, _okay_ Toothless, message received, can you wait for me to put my leg on or would that be too inconvenient?” Hiccup rubbed at his eyes as he sat up, large dragon head still in his lap. Toothless licked him once before he bounced to his rock and proceeded to wiggle his butt impatiently. Not ten minutes later they were in the air, somersaulting through clouds and stretching their flying muscles. Usually, they would’ve circled the island a couple of times before speeding off towards the horizon, but Hiccup had felt giddy and playful and _nervous_ that morning, so he directed Toothless up, over, around, and under various parts of the village. After they cleared the maze of docked boats they climbed straight up until they disappeared into the clouds. Toothless leveled out and Hiccup breathed in crisp air that tasted like lightning. 

He knew that Astrid was at the academy working with some of the younger riders on a flying performance that would kick off Dragon Races at the finale of the games. She had come to the forge to ask his opinion on props a few days ago and as that conversation ended Hiccup had taken a breath to start a new, more dangerous one. And then Gobber walked in. Hiccup hadn’t seen her since, too busy or exhausted to seek her out, but he had until the end of Thawfest to talk to her.

Before he knew it, Hiccup was steering Toothless towards the academy and they took off like a shot. It was well and truly midday by the time the academy came into view and Hiccup could see some dragons fishing and playing around the bridge while their riders sat in a group inside the arena. 

“Hungry, bud?” Hiccup asked Toothless with a pat to his neck. Toothless warbled gently in affirmation so Hiccup led him to the hover at the edge of the arena. He unclipped his harness and set Toothless’ tail in a gliding position. 

“Have fun,” Hiccup said before he slid off his dragon’s back. It wasn’t a long fall, hardly a few seconds, just enough time for Hiccup to get his feet under him and land in a steady crouch. He stood up, shook out his prosthetic, and then waved to Toothless who roared and took off to play with the other dragons. 

Hiccup turned around with a grin already on his face and was met with a punch squarely in the gut. 

Really, he should be used to this by now. 

“Hi Astrid. Great to see you too. I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Hiccup wheezed out between gritted teeth as he doubled over in pain. Despite his leather flying gear, he knew that there would be a bruise in the shape of Astrid’s fist on his ribs. 

“Who jumps off a dragon to _willingly_ fall to the edge of a _cliff_? You couldn’t just land like a normal person? Are you _trying_ to kill yourself?” Astrid’s face was screwed up in indignant annoyance. Hiccup could see the group of young riders staring at them with mixed expressions over her head. 

Hiccup shrugged at her as he straightened up, grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.

“How’s the performance going?” He asked instead. Astrid glared at him for a moment longer before shrugging and delving into explanations and logistics. 

“Wanna see?” she asked him a few minutes later. Hiccup nodded and whistled for Toothless. He met Astrid in the air, hovering just below the cloud line while the riders got into position for a quick run-through. 

“Alright, guys, just like we practiced!” Astrid called out. They watched, silent, as the riders began their acrobatics. It was a dance meant for the sky and Hiccup knew his father would love it. 

“So?” Astrid asked him a few moments later. 

“My dad received marriage proposals from four other tribes,” Hiccup blurted out. He meant to say, _‘this is amazing’,_ but, well. Too late for that now. 

“What?” she asked lowly. Hiccup sighed. He wanted to do this a little romantically, he wanted to pull her aside and have a private conversation while everyone was distracted with Thawfest. He didn’t want to talk about this a few hundred meters in the air while they were supposed to be watching teenagers flip off of dragons. 

“My dad, he, uh, got a few alliance proposals from a few other Chieftains. A few weeks ago,” Hiccup started, already feeling guilty for putting the weary look on Astrid’s face. 

“That makes sense,” Astrid nodded. 

“It does,” Hiccup agreed. 

“But,” he took a deep breath, “it doesn’t mean I can’t say no.” Hiccup looked at her meaningfully before averting his eyes back to the young riders. 

“I can accept one of the proposals. Or I can choose for myself.” Hiccup fell silent, unsure how to continue. 

“Hiccup?” Astrid’s voice shook. 

Hiccup tugged at his hair. The other riders had started flying in loops and corkscrews, their laughter and shrieks of joy coloring the backdrop of Hiccup’s internal catastrophe. 

“I always knew that I might end up marrying some unfortunate girl from another tribe for political alliances. It’s part of the job, you know? I never thought I’d have a choice in who my partner would be, and in a way that made it easier, not having to worry about my heart when my tribe was on the line. But I have a choice now, and I choose you, Astrid. I will only ever choose _you.”_ Hiccup refused to look at her, too weary of the expression she might be wearing. He didn’t tell her that if her answer was no, he was going to accept one of the proposals.

He didn’t tell her that he loved her. 

“You don’t have to say anything now. And I know I should’ve told you sooner, but…” Hiccup trailed off before sighing again and glancing towards the dragon racing stands. 

He didn’t tell her that he needed an answer by the end of the Games. 

“They look great, by the way. Everyone will love it,” Hiccup gestured to the riders in the clouds above them with a faint smile and then nudged Toothless towards the village. 

He didn’t look back as he flew away and he didn’t think about it for the rest of the day. 

When Hiccup woke up on Thawfest, it was with a sense of trepidation and nervous excitement. He had grown to thoroughly enjoy the games in the recent years, mainly because he no longer felt pressured to win. 

He was only participating in one game today, and how he did was going to determine whether or not Berk was going to war anytime soon. 

He felt like he just fell off of Toothless for the first time again, suspended in the air before plummeting to the ground. After the log roll there would be a brief lull in the games so that the riders could prepare with their dragons and spectators could find food and a seat. Hiccup was in the staging area double checking Toothless’ harness and tailfin when Astrid found him. Silently, she circled them, running her hands over the harness connections, double checking their strength and security before she gave Toothless a quick nuzzle and stopped to lean against Hiccup’s leg. 

“Winning or losing today?” She asked. 

“Just doing my best, milady,” Hiccup replied with a bow. Astrid grabbed his helmet from where it sat in his saddle bag and looked at it for a moment. Hiccup looked at the top of her head, and thought about the representatives other tribes had sent to witness the ‘Dragon Games’ in person. Hiccup had rules for Dragon Races: if it was a race between friends or training, he would absolutely try to win, but if it was simply a show, he would usually aim for second. Everyone knew he had, statistically, the fastest dragon in the world, but more importantly, his tribe knew that he was a good sport. 

Hiccup would have to break one of his rules today. Today, he would have to win the race, because not all of the visiting diplomats were particularly dragon friendly and if war can be prevented by a silly race? So be it. 

“Hiccup…” Astrid started carefully, and Hiccup braced himself because here it was. He gave too much away, it was too much pressure, too much to spring on her mid-air. His grip on the reins tightened minutely. 

“RIDERS TO THEIR MARKS! RIDERS TO THEIR MARKS! RACE STARTS IN 2 MINUTES!!” Stoick called out through the horn. The buzz in the starting area grew tenfold as riders baited each other and their loved ones wished them luck. Hiccup could hear the stampede above him that meant people were clamoring into the arena. 

Astrid’s eyes darted around for a moment before they settled back on Hiccup. He met her eyes steadily, trying to convey confidence he was still growing into. Astrid held out his helmet, and then stepped up onto Toothless’ harness to press a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of Hiccup’s mouth. He stared at her, warmth blooming in his chest, hoping beyond hope for _something._

“Have fun. I’ll see you after?” she finished. 

Hiccup nodded and as he made his way out of the staging area he chanced a glance back and saw Astrid just standing there, watching him, and smiling. 

The crowd was deafening. Hiccup was sure that his father’s announcements were almost, if not entirely, drowned out by the din. There were hundreds of vikings in the stands, not a single butt on the benches, covered in paint and waving banners supporting their champions. 

Usual Dragon Races were held almost exclusively as exhibitions for riders in the village who were earning their scales - so to speak. Holidays, like Thawfest, usually served as, frankly, mating displays and power grabs between houses. But this was the first year where other tribes were invited to celebrate as well, which meant stronger competition between entire tribes instead of individual houses. Instead of one champion per house, they rewrote the rules of the Games to allow two champions per event, _per tribe._ This usually meant the heirs competed, but that was discarded in favor of allowing all willing participants to compete in qualifying bouts. 

They had started discussing Thawfest plans with other tribes over a year ago. 

Hiccup was part of the negotiations over the Dragon Races. Some of the other chieftains felt slighted at not being able to set forth champions in the final game of Thawfest. They considered taking the Dragon Races off the table entirely, but Hiccup argued against that _fiercely_. He proposed an alternative; teach the volunteers from other tribes how to fly. They would send emissaries to the different tribes a year in advance to teach them if they wanted to compete in the Races, and then they would leave. Any training or bouts the participants performed in would be entirely in the hands of the tribe, but Berk would always be just a Terrible Terror away should any crisis occur. It was a way for each tribe to see how the dragons worked up close in a controlled environment, and a way for Hiccup to see exactly how each tribe responded to dragon training. 

Hiccup made his way next to Snotlout at the end of the line. 

“Hey, Cuz. Ready to smoke these guys?” Snotlout threw Hiccup a grin. 

Hiccup grinned back before he flipped down his faceplate. Gobber stood on a raised dais with a flag attached to his arm. 

“Riders, are ye ready?” He yelled. Hiccup shifted Toothless’ tailfin. 

“On my mark!” Hiccup felt the adrenaline start pumping through his bloodstream as the arena grew eerily quiet. 

“Go!!” Hiccup assumed Gobber waved his flag arm, he couldn't tell from the sudden crush of dragons swarming around him, heading out over the ocean for the obstacle part of the course. 

His brained emptied. Hiccup had a singular goal: to win the race. Obstacle courses were easy for them, Hiccup was a small blip on Toothless’ back, and Toothless was a streamlined dragon, designed for speed and stealth. 

They rolled, flipped, and climbed their way through the sea stacks, carefully trying to avoid other riders. They didn’t need to finish the course first, they’d more than make up for it during the laps around the island and through the village. There was a Nadder just ahead of him dodging the swinging barrels of water so Hiccup took his chance. 

“One,” he breathed to Toothless, whose answering growl vibrated through his entire body until he felt like both the bowstring and the arrow; taut and sharp. 

“Two,” he leaned forward in the saddle, hunkering down over his dragon’s neck, focus narrowing to the rhythmic swing of the barrels. 

“Three,” he exhaled on the click of Toothless’ tailfin, breath stolen from a blurry world, the whistle of sound breaking as they flew by, a mote of dust suspended in sunlight and exhilarated by it. 

The world came back to focus sharply and all at once as Toothless slowed down enough to navigate the winding path back through the village. Hiccup could hear the squawk of the Nadder behind them, enraged, so he leaned forward until his whole body was out of the saddle and balanced as a point on Toothless’ back. He had the home field advantage, sure, but the way was just as unknown to him as it was to the other riders. 

Astrid had designed the course. 

He knew he had to lap the village three times, he knew that each lap would bring new surprises _because Astrid._

Hiccup leaned into Toothless’ weight as he took the winding turns around houses and through ship sails, the crying crowd indecipherable through the crashing waves and his pounding heartbeat. He could see the arena ahead of him and as he drew closer the crying finally broke free from the wind, sound swelling until all he could hear was Berk calling him home.

Hiccup wanted to slow down, see if he could spot Astrid amongst the hundreds, would she be with her family? Or with his? 

He couldn’t risk it. He had a job to do. Hiccup blazed through the arena, a whistle on the wind as he flew out over the sea stacks to round the fiery checkpoint amongst the stacks. 

And then several dragons popped up from behind various rocks and started firing on them. Toothless’ began instantly dodging while Hiccup assessed the situation: all of the dragons appeared to have riders on their backs, and none of the shots were aimed _at_ them, just _around_ them. 

Right. Astrid. 

Hiccup ducked and dodged the fireballs through the entire lap until he carefully made his way through the arena the second time. He heard their war horn signaling the start of the final lap as he headed out over the water for the last time. The Deadly Nadder he had passed on the obstacle course was riding his back - hard. Every time he tried to turn away from them, they’d just turn with him. He didn’t know how they were anticipating his every move like that. 

Well. Hiccup had tricks, too. 

“Let’s lose this guy, Toothless,” Hiccup patted his head and removed his legs from the stirrups. He laid until he was flat along Toothless’ back and then he clicked his tongue thrice. 

Toothless took off like a shot, folding his legs into his body and his wings almost completely straight behind him, covering Hiccup’s body almost entirely. They made their way through the spirals of fire much quicker than the other riders. 

Hiccup stuck his legs back in the stirrups to readjust Toothless’ tail-fin. As they came upon the village they were bombarded with…bags of paint. Bags of paint were raining down on them from every angle, likely because he was the only one in the village at the moment. He had no choice. Hiccup deviated from course to avoid the paint as best he could but when a bag hit him square in the face he was forced to take off his helmet to see. The checkpoint he had to round was dead in the center of town, so he could either endure the paint and get to the finish faster, or he could try to avoid it and risk losing to the Nadder. 

Losing wasn’t an option, so paint it was. 

Hiccup waited until the painters were distracted with the Nadder and a Nightmare before he made his move. Like a shot, Toothless’ raced for the checkpoint, avoiding as many paint bags as possible and rounding it before shooting for the arena. Hiccup could hear the Nadder squawking and other riders yelling as they were assaulted with paint fading into the background as the crowds voices rose in anticipation of the first victor. The bruises he could feel rising on his body felt like a benediction. 

Hiccup pushed through the finish line, and rose to circle the arena a few times as a cool-down. His eyes flew to the chief’s box first, and his chest bloomed with the pride he saw reflected in Stoick’s eyes. 

And there was Astrid, right next to him. Cheering him on, screaming her joy.

Hiccup circled the arena once more before leaning just enough out of his saddle to slap hands with his tribesmen before landing on the raised dais in the center.

“Good job, lad. Almost thought she got you with the paint,” Gobber patted him on the back before stepping away to wave the red flag signaling the end of the race as the last rider flew in.

Hiccup waited with the other riders, and the arena slowly dissolved into silence as the judges tallied the scores. Whatever penalties he earned by not avoiding the projectiles he was sure he made up for in speed. He watched Gothi scratch into the sand in front of his father before he nodded solemnly. 

“In third place, with a score of 88, is Svengaard Lorenson of the Bog Burglar Tribe!” Stoick announced and the crowd exploded in cheers and jeers alike. Hiccup glanced over to Svengaard, who was smiling serenely and waving to the stands. 

“In second place, with a score of 90, is Hansel Hogson of the Meathead Tribe!” Stoick cried out and the din grew louder. 

Stoick raised his hands to quiet the arena once more and waited until Hiccup was sure he could hear his father’s _breathing_. 

“The Victor of the Dragon Races, with a total score of 99, is Hiccup Haddock III of Berk!” Stoick dropped his arms and grinned, proud and fierce, at the crowd and congregation of fellow chieftans. Hiccup noted absently that only a few of them looked put-out, but not enough to cause real concern. 

So he swung his head to Astrid, blind and deaf to the fireworks and fireballs being launched into the sky. 

She was already looking at him, smile stretched across her face. 

Well, what choice did he have, really? 

Hiccup jumped on Toothless’ back and flew directly at her, hovering above the chief’s box before setting Toothless’ fin into gliding position. 

“You did fantastic bud, go treat yourself to some fish,” Hiccup patted his best friends head, unlocked his harness, and jumped. He landed in a crouch in front of her. 

“Hiccup,” she smiled through a sigh, exasperated by his continued antics. 

“Astrid,” he replied, adrenaline and joy warming him up. 

She pulled her arm back slow enough for him to clearly see her intent. He let her throw the punch, more of a tap to the chest than anything. He trapped her hand with his, keeping her fingers pressed to his heartbeat.

“Will you ever stop doing crazy stunts?” She asked him quietly, the most wicked glint in her eye.

“Probably not, no.” he answered, just as quiet, just as playful. 

“Alright.” She nodded to herself, a confirmation and a decision rolled into the way her brows drew in and her lips tightened. 

And then she kissed him in full view of every member, dignitary, chief, and dragon in the arena. 

When they broke, Hiccup smiled down at her, heart unbearably full. 

"I choose you, too." 

 


End file.
